 | CHAPTER XVI. Vashti, or, "Until death us do part" |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
DR. GREY, who is that beautiful girl to whom Muriel
introduced me this morning? I was so absorbed in
admiration of her face that I lost her name.”
As he spoke, Mr. Gerard Granville struck the ashes from his
cigar, and walked up to the table where Dr. Grey was sealing
some letters.
“Her name is Salome Owen, and she is my sister's adopted
child.”
“What is her age, if I may be pardoned such impertinent
queries?”
“I believe she has entered her eighteenth year.”
“She is a regal beauty, and shows proud blood as plainly as
any princess.”
“Take care, Granville; imagination has cantered away with
your penetration. Salome's family were coarse and common,
though doubtless honest people. Her father was a drunken
miller, who died in an attack of delerium tremens, and left his
children as a legacy to the county. I merely mention these deplorable
facts to show you that your boasted penetration is not
entirely infallible.”
“Miller or millionnaire, — the girl would grace any court in
Europe, and only lacks a dash of aplomb to make her irresistible.
I have seen few faces that attracted and interested me so powerfully.”
“Yes, she certainly is very handsome; but I do not agree
with you in thinking that she lacks aplomb. Granville, if you
have finished your cigar, we will adjourn to the parlor, where
the ladies are taking their tea.”
Dr. Grey collected his letters and walked away, followed by
his guest; and, a moment after, a low, scornful laugh, floated in
through the window which opened on the little flower-garden.
Miss Jane had requested Salome to gather the seeds of some
apple and nutmeg geraniums that were arranged on a shelf near
china jars, and screened from observation by a spreading lilacbush,
the girl had heard the conversation relative to herself.
Excessive vanity had never been numbered among the faults
that marred her character, but Dr. Grey's indifference to personal
attractions, which strangers admitted so readily, piqued,
and thoroughly aroused a feeling that was destined to bring
countless errors and misfortunes in its train; and, henceforth, —
Her pride o'ermastereth not.”
Hitherto the love of one man had been the only boon she
craved of heaven; but now, conscious that the darling hope of
her life was crushed and withering under Dr. Grey's relentless
feet, she resolved that the admiration of the world should
feed her insatiable hunger, — a maddening hunger which one
tender word from his true lips would have assuaged, — but
which she began to realize he would never utter.
During the last eighteen hours, a mournful change had taken
place in her heart, where womanly tenderness was rapidly retreating
before unwomanly hate, bitterness, and blasphemous
defiance; and she laughed scornfully at the “idiocy” that led
her to weary heaven with prayers for the preservation of a life
that must ever run as an asymptote to her own. How earnestly
she now lamented an escape, for which she had formerly exhausted
language in expressing her gratitude; and how much
better it would have been if she could mourn him as dead,
instead of jealously watching him, — living without a thought
of her.
All the girlish sweetness and freshness of her nature passed
away, and an intolerable weariness and disappointment usurped
its place. Since her acquaintance with Dr. Grey, he had been
her sole Melek Taous, adored with Yezidi fervor; but to-day
she overturned, and strove to revile and desecrate the idol, to
whose vacant pedestal she lifted a colossal vanity. Her bruised,
numb heart, seemed incapable of loving any one, or anything,
and a hatred and contempt of her race took possession of her.
The changing hues of Muriel's tell-tale face when Mr. Granville
arrived, and the excessive happiness that could not be
masked, had not escaped Salome's lynx vision; and very
accurately she conjectured the real condition of affairs, relative
to which Dr. Grey had never uttered a syllable. Bent upon
mischief, she had, malice prepense, dressed herself with unusual
care, and arranged her hair in a new style of coiffure, which
proved very becoming.
Now, as the hum of conversation mingled with the sound of
Muriel's low, soft laugh, reached her from the parlor, her
chatoyant eyes kindled, and she hastily went in to join the
merry circle.
“Come here, child, and sit by me.” said Miss Jane, making
room on the sofa, as her protégée entered.
“Thank you, I prefer a seat near the window.”
Dr. Grey sat in a large chair in the centre of the floor, with
Muriel on an ottoman close to him, and Mr. Granville leaned
over the back of the chair, while Miss Dexter shared Miss
Jane's old-fashioned ample sofa. In full view of the whole
party, Salome seated herself at a little distance, and, with
admirably assumed nonchalance, began to enclose and sew up
the geranium-seeds, in some pretty, colored paper bags, prepared
for the purpose.
After a few minutes Mr. Granville sauntered across the room,
looked at the cuckoo clock, and finally went over to the window,
where he leaned against the facing and watched Salome's slender
white fingers.
She was dressed in a delicate muslin, striped with narrow pink
lines, and flounced at the bottom of the skirt, and wore a ribbon
sash of the same color; while in the broad braids of hair raised
high on her head, she had fastened a superb half-blown Baron
Provost rose, just where two long glossy curls crept down. The
puffed sleeves, scarcely reaching the elbows, displayed the finely
rounded white arms, and the exactness with which the airy
muslin fitted her form, showed its symmetrical outline to the
greatest advantage.
Muriel touched her guardian, and whispered, —
“Did you ever see Salome look so beautiful? Her coiffure
to-night is almost Parisian, and how very becoming!”
Dr. Grey was studying the innocent, happy countenance of his
unsuspecting ward, and he could not repress a sigh, when, turning
his eyes towards Salome, he noticed the undisguised admiration
in Mr. Granville's earnest gaze.
A nameless dread made him take Muriel's hand and lead her
to the piano.
“Play something for me. I am music-hungry.”
“Is Saul sad to-night?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“A little fatigued and perplexed, and anxious to have his
cares exorcised by the magic of your fingers.”
With womanly tact she selected a fantasia which Mr. Granville
had often pronounced the gem of her repertoire, and
momentarily expected to hear his whispered thanks; but page
after page was turned, and still her lover did not approach the
piano, where Dr. Grey stood with folded arms and slightly contracted
brows. Muriel played brilliantly, and was pardonably
proud of her proficiency, which Mr. Granville had confessed
first attracted his attention; and to-night, when the piece was
concluded and she commenced a Polonaise, she looked over her
shoulder hoping to meet a grateful, fond glance. But his eyes
were riveted on the fair rosy face at his side, and his betrothed
bit her pouting lip and made sundry blunders.
As she rose from the piano-stool, Mr. Granville exclaimed,—
“Miss Muriel, you love music so well that I trust you will
add your persuasions to mine, and induce Miss Owen to sing
for us, as she declares she is comparatively a tyro in instrumental
music, and would not venture to perform in your presence.”
“She has never sung for me, but I hope she will not refuse
your request. Salome, will you not oblige us?”
Muriel's eyes were dim with tears, but her sweet voice did
not falter.
“I was not aware that you sang at all,” said Miss Dexter,
looking up from a mat which she was crocheting.
“She has a fine voice, but is very obstinate in declining to
coaxed Miss Jane.
The girl waited a few seconds, hoping that another voice
would swell the general request, but the lips she loved best were
mute; and, suddenly tossing the paper bags from her lap, she
rose and moved proudly to the piano.
“Miss Manton, will you or Miss Dexter be so kind as to play
my accompaniment for me? I am neither Liszt, nor Thalberg,
and the vocal gymnastics are all that I can venture to undertake.”
Muriel promptly resumed her seat before the instrument, and
played the symphony of an aria from “Favorite,” which Salome
placed on the piano-board. Barilli had assured her that she
rendered this fiery burst of rage and hatred as well as he had
ever heard it; and, folding her fingers tightly around each other,
she drew herself up to her full height, and sang it.
Mr. Granville leaned against the piano, and Dr. Grey was
standing in the recess of the window when the song began, but
ere long he moved forward unconsciously and paused, with his
hand on his ward's shoulder and his eyes riveted in astonishment
on Salome's countenance. She knew that the approbation
and delight of this small audience was worth all the encore
shouts of the millions who might possibly applaud her in future
years; and if ever a woman's soul poured itself out through her
lips, all that was surging in Salome's heart became visible to
the man who listened as if spell-bound.
Miss Jane grasped her crutches, and rose, leaning upon them,
while a look of mingled joy and wonder made her sallow face
eloquent; and Miss Dexter dropped her ivory needle, and gazed
in amazement at the singer. Muriel forgot her chords, — turned
partially around, and watched in breathless surprise the marvellous
execution of several difficult passages, where the rich
voice seemed to linger while improvising sparkling turns and
trills that were strangely intricate, and indescribably sweet.
As she approached the close of her song, Salome became
temporarily oblivious of pride, wounded vanity, and murdered
hopes, — forgot all but the man at her side, for whose commendation
radiant face, towards him, her magnificent eyes aflame with
triumph looked appealingly up at his, and her hands were extended
till they rested on his arm.
So the song ended, and for a moment the parlor was still as
a tomb. Dr. Grey silently enclosed the girl's two hands in his,
and, for the first time since she had known him, Salome saw
tears swimming in his grave, beautiful eyes, and noticed a slight
tremor on his usually steady lips.
“There is nothing in the old world or the new comparable
to that voice, and I flatter myself I speak ex cathedra. Miss
Owen, you will soon have the public at your feet.”
She did not heed Mr. Granville's enthusiastic eulogy. She
saw nothing but Dr. Grey's admiring eyes, — felt nothing but
the close warm clasp, in which her folded fingers lay, — and her
ears ached for the sound of his deep voice.
“Salome, I shall not soon forgive you for keeping me in
ignorance of the existence of the finest voice it has ever been
my good fortune to hear. Knowing your adopted brother's
fondness for music, how could you hoard your treasure so parsimoniously,
denying him such happiness as you might have
conferred?”
He untwined her fingers, which clung tenaciously to his, and
saw that the blood ebbed out of cheeks and lips as she listened
to his carefully guarded language. Silently she obeyed Miss
Jane's summons to the sofa.
“You perverse witch! Where have you been practising all
these months, that have made you such a wonderful cantatrice?
Child, answer me.”
“I did not wish to annoy the household by thrumming on the
piano and afflicting their ears with false flat scales, consequently
I followed the birds, and rehearsed with them, under the trees,
and down on the edge of the sea. If you like my voice I am
glad, because I have studied to perfect it.”
“Like it, indeed! As if I could avoid liking it! But you
must have had good training. Who taught you?”
“I took lessons from Barilli.”
“Aha, — Ulpian! Now you can understand how he contrives
to feed his family. Salome's sewing-money explains it all.
Kiss me, dear. I always believed there was more in you than
came to the surface.”
“Miss Owen ought to go upon the stage. Such gifts as hers
belong to the public, who would soon crown her queen of song.”
Salome glanced at the handsome stranger, and bowed.
“It is my purpose, sir, to dedicate myself and future to the
Opera, where I trust I shall not utterly fail, as I have been for
a year studying with reference to this step.”
A bomb-shell falling in that quiet circle, would scarcely have
startled its members more effectually; and, anxious to avoid
comment, Salome quitted the parlor and ran out on the lawn.
After awhile she heard Muriel's skilful touch on the piano,
and, when an hour had elapsed, the echo of voices died away,
and soon a profound silence seemed to reign over the house.
The hot blood was coursing thick and fast in her veins, and
evil purposes brooded darkly over her oppressed and throbbing
heart. She was thoroughly cognizant of the intense admiration
with which Mr. Granville regarded her, and to-night she had
compared his handsome face with the older, graver, and less
regular features of Dr. Grey, and wondered why the latter was
so much more fascinating. Her beauty transcended Muriel's,
and it would prove an easy task to supplant her in the affections
of her not very ardent lover. Life in Paris, spiced with the
political intrigues incident to diplomatic circles, would divert
her thoughts, and might possibly make the coming years endurable.
Was the game worth the candle? No thought of Muriel's
misery entered for an instant into this entirely sordid calculation,
or would have deterred her even momentarily, had it
presented itself in expostulation. The girl's heart had suddenly
grown callous, and her hand would have ruthlessly smitten down
any object that dared to cross her path, or retard the accomplishment
of her schemes. Weary at last of pacing the dim starlit
avenue, and yet too wretched to think of sleeping, she reëntered
the house, and cautiously locking the door, threw herself into a
she so often studied.
If she had not at this juncture been completely absorbed in
gazing upon it, she might have seen the original, who soon rose
and came forward from the shadow of the curtains.
“Salome, I wish to make you my confidante, — to tell you
something which I have not yet mentioned even to Janet. Can
I trust you, little sister?”
Resting against the arm of the sofa, he looked intently into
her face, reading its perturbed lines.
“I presume you are amusing yourself by tantalizing my
curiosity, as your experiments appear to have thoroughly
satisfied you that I am utterly unworthy of trust. I follow the
flattering advice you were so kind as to give me some time since,
and make no promises, which shatter like crystal under the
hammer of the first temptation. You see, sir, you are teaching
me to be cautious.”
“You are teaching yourself lessons in dissimulation and
maliciousness, that you will heartily rue some day, but your
repentance will come too tardily to mend the mischief.”
She tried to screen her countenance, but he was in no mood
for trifling, and putting his palm under her chin, forced her to
submit to his scrutiny.
“Salome, if I did not cherish a strong faith in the latent
generosity of your soul, I would not come to you as I do now
to offer confidence, and demand it in return.”
She guessed his meaning, and her eyes glowed with all the
baleful light that he had hoped was extinguished forever.
“Dr. Grey makes a grace of necessity, and a pretence of confiding
that which has ceased to be a secret. Is such his boasted
candor and honesty?”
“If I believed that you were already acquainted with what
I propose to divulge, I would not fritter away my time in
appealing to a nobility of feeling which that fact alone would
prove the hopelessness of my ever finding in you.”
He felt her face grow hot, and for an instant her eyes drooped
before his, stern and almost threatening.
“Well, sir; I wait for your confidential disclosures. Is there
a Guy Fawkes, or Titus Oates, plotting against the peace and
prosperity of the house of Grey?”
“Verily I am disposed to apprehend that there may be.”
She endeavored to wrench her face from his hand, but he held
it firmly, and continued, —
“I wish to say to you that Muriel is very sensitive, and I
hope that during Mr. Granville's visit, you will try to be as
considerate and courteous as possible, to both. Salome, Gerard
Granville has asked Muriel to be his wife, and she has promised
to marry him at the expiration of a year.”
The girl laughed derisively, and exclaimed, —
“Pray, Dr. Grey, be so good as to indulge me with your
motive in furnishing this piece of information?”
“Your astuteness forbids the possibility of any doubt with
reference to my motives, — which are, explicitly, anxiety for
Muriel's happiness, and for the preservation of your integrity
and self-respect.”
“What jeopardizes either?”
“Your heartless, contemptible vanity, which tempts you to
demand a homage and incense that should be offered only where
it is due, — at another, and I grieve to add, a purer shrine.”
“Ah! My unpardonable sin consists in having braided my
black locks, and made myself comely! If you will procure an
authentic portrait of the Witch of Endor, I will do proper
penance by likening my appearance thereunto. Poor little rose!
Can't you open your pink lips and cry peccavi? Come down,
sole ally and accomplice of my heinous vanity, and plead for me,
and make the amende honorable to this grim guardian of Miss
Muriel's peace!”
She snatched the drooping rose from her hair, and tossed it
at his feet.
“Salome, you forget yourself!”
His stern displeasure rendered her reckless, and she continued,
—
“True, sir. I did forget that the poor miller's child had no
right to obtrude her comeliness in the presence of the banker's
the pet of fortune, and await my condign punishment. Is it
your sovereign will that I shear my shining locks like royal
Berenice, and offer them in propitiation? Or, does it seem `good,
meet, and your bounden duty,' to have me promptly inoculated
with small-pox, for the destruction of my skin, which is unjustifiably
smoother and clearer than —”
“Hush, hush!”
He laid his hand over her lips; and, for a while, there was an
awkward pause.
“If it were only possible to inoculate your heart with a little
genuine womanly charity, — if it were possible to persuade you
to adopt as your rule of conduct that golden one which Christ
gave as a patent of peace to all who followed it. But it is futile,
hopeless. You will not, you will not, — and my fluttering dove
is at the mercy of a famished eagle, already poised to swoop. I
`reckoned without my host' when I so confidently appealed to
your magnanimity, to your feminine integrity of soul. You are
a `deaf adder that stoppeth her ear.'”
“Which will not `hearken to the voice of the charmer, charm
he never so wisely.' Dr. Grey, what has the pampered heiress, the
happy fiancée of that handsome man up-stairs, to fear from the
poverty-stricken daughter of a miller, who you conscientiously
inform your guest passed from time to eternity through the
gate opened by delirium tremens. Mark you, my `adder ears'
have not been sealed all the evening.”
She had taken his hand from her lips, and thrown it from
her.
“People who condescend to listen to conversations that are
not intended for them, generally deserve the punishment of
hearing unpleasant truths discussed. Salome, our interview is
at an end.”
“Not yet. Do you sincerely desire to see Muriel Mr.
Granville's wife?”
“I do, because I know that she is strongly attached to him.”
“And you are sufficiently generous to sacrifice your happiness,
in order to promote hers? Oh, marvellous magnanimity!”
“Your insinuation is beneath my notice.”
“How long have you known of her engagement?”
“Since the first interview I had with her, after her father's
death.”
“Let me see your face, Dr. Grey. If truth has not been
hunted out of the earth, it took refuge in your eyes. There, I
am satisfied. You never loved her. I think I must have been
insane, or I would not have imagined it possible. No, no; she
never touched your heart, save with a feeling of compassion.
Don't go, I want to say something to you. Sit down, and let
me think.”
She walked up and down the room for ten minutes, and, with
his face bowed on his hand, Dr. Grey watched and waited.
Finally he stooped to pick up the crushed rose on the floor,
and then she came back and stood before him.
“I promise you I will not lay a straw in the path of Muriel's
happiness, and it shall not be my fault if Mr. Granville fails in
a lover's devoir. I was tempted to entice him from his sworn
allegiance. Why should I deny what you know so well? But
I will not, and when I give my word, it shall go hard with me
but I keep it; especially when you hold the pledge. Are you
satisfied? I know that you have little cause to trust me, but I
tell you, sir, when I deceive you, then all heaven with its
hierarchies of archangels can not save me.”
After all, Ulpian Grey was only a man of flesh and blood, and
his heart was touched by the beauty of the young face, and the
mournful sweetness of the softened voice.
“Thank you, Salome. I accept your promise, and rely upon
it. As a pledge of your sincerity I shall retain this rose, and
return it to you when little Muriel is a happy wife.”
She clasped her hands, and looked at him with a mournful,
wistful expression, that puzzled him.
“My friend, my little sister, what is it? Tell me, and let me
help you to do your duty, for I see that you are wrestling desperately
with some great temptation.”
“Dr. Grey, be merciful to me. Send me away. Oh, for God's
sake, send me away!”
She had grown ghastly pale, and her whole face indexed a
depth of anguish and despair that baffled utterance.
“My dear child, where do you desire to go? If your wishes
are reasonable they shall be granted.”
“Will you persuade Miss Jane to take Jessie in my place,
and send me to France or Italy?”
“To study music with the intention of becoming a prima
donna?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My young friend, I cannot conscientiously advise a compliance
with wishes so fraught with danger to yourself.”
“You fear that my voice does not justify so expensive an
experiment?”
“On the contrary, I have not a doubt that your extraordinary
voice will lift you to the highest pinnacle of musical celebrity;
and, because your career on the stage promises to prove
so brilliant, I shudder in anticipating the temptations that will
unavoidably assail you.”
“You are afraid to trust me?”
“Yes, my little sister; you are so impulsive, so prone to
hearken to evil dictates rather than good ones, that I dread the
thought of seeing you launched into the dangerous career you
contemplate, without some surer, safer, more infallible pilot
than your proud, passionate heart. If you were homely, and
a dullard, I should entertain less apprehension about your
future.”
Her broad brow blackened with a frown that became a terrible
scowl, and her eyes gleamed like lightning under the edge of
a thunderous summer cloud.
“What is it to you whether I live or die? The immaculate
soul of Ulpian Grey, M.D., will serenely wing its way up
through the stars, on and on to the great Gates of Pearl, —
oblivious of the beggar who, from the lowest Hades, where
she has fallen, eagerly watches his flight.”
“The anxious soul of Ulpian Grey will pray for yours, as
long as we remain on earth. Salome, I am the truest friend
you will ever find this side of the City of God; and, when I see
what it may. Your jeers and struggles have not deterred me
hitherto, nor shall they henceforth. You are as incapable of
guiding yourself aright, as a rudderless bark is of stemming the
gulf-stream in a south-west gale; and I am afraid to trust you
out of my sight.”
“Yes, I understand you; the good angel in your nature
pities the demon in mine. But your pity stifles me; I could
not endure it; and, besides, I cannot stay here any longer. I
must go out into the world, and seize the fortune that people
tell me my voice will certainly yield me.”
Flush and sparkle had died out of her face, which, in its
worn, haggard pallor, looked five years older than when she
entered the parlor, three hours before.
“Pecuniary considerations must not influence you, because,
while Janet and I live, you shall want nothing; and when either
dies, you will be liberally provided for. Dismiss from your
mind a matter that has long been decided, and which no wish
of yours can annual or alter.”
With an impatient wave of the hand, she answered, —
“Give to poor little Jessie and Stanley what was intended
for me. They are helpless, but I can take care of myself; and,
moreover, I am not contented here. I want to see something
of the world in which — bon gré mal gré — I find myself. Let
me go. Rousseau was a sage. `Le monde est le livre des
femmes.'”
He shook his head, and said, sorrowfully, —
“No, your instincts are unreliable; and if you roam away
from Jane and from me, you will sip more poison than honey.
Be wise, and remain where Providence has placed you. I will
bring Jessie here, and you shall teach her what you choose, and
Stanley can command all the educational advantages he will
improve. After a while, you shall, if you prefer it, have a
pleasant home of your own, and dwell there with the two little
ones. Such has long been my scheme and purpose; but, during
my sister's life, she will never consent to give you up; and you
most urgently requires the solace of your love and society.”
Salome covered her face with her hands, and something like
a heavy dry sob shook her frame; but the spring of bitterness
seemed exhaustless, and her voice was indescribably scornful in
its defiant ring.
“You are very charitable, Dr. Grey, and I thank you for all
your embryonic benevolent plans for me and my pauper relatives;
but I have drawn a very different map for my future
years. You seem to regard this house as a second “La Tour
sans venin,” which, like its prototype near Grenoble, possesses
an atmosphere fatal to all poisonous, noxious things; but surely
you forget that it has long sheltered me.”
“No, it has never arrogated the prerogative of `La Tour
sans venin,' but of one thing, my poor wilful child, you shall
never have reason to be skeptical, — that dear Jane and I will
indefatigably strive to serve you as faithfully and successfully,
as did in ancient days, the Psylli whom Plutarch immortalized.”
While he spoke Dr. Grey had been turning over the leaves
of the old family Bible, which happened to lie within his reach;
and now, without premonition, he read aloud the fifty-fifth
Psalm.
She listened, not willingly, but ex necessitate rei, and rebelliously;
and, when he finished the Psalm, and knelt, with his face
on his arms, which were crossed upon the back of a chair, she
stood haughtily erect and motionless beside him.
His prayer was brief and fervent, that God would aid her
in her efforts to curb her passionate temper, and to walk in
accordance with the teachings of Jesus; and that he would
especially over-rule all things, and guide her decision in the important
step she contemplated. He rose, and turned towards
her, but her countenance was hidden.
“Good night, Salome. God bless you and direct you.”
She raised her face, and her eyes sought his with a long,
questioning, pleading gaze, so full of anguish that he could
scarcely endure it. Then he saw the last spark of hope expire;
from the parlor.
One after one;
I have held the hand of Death upon my heart,
And made no moan.”
| CHAPTER XVI. Vashti, or, "Until death us do part" | |